


On Display

by methylviolet10b



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Gen, Post-Reichenbach, Prompt Fic, Watson's Woes July Writing Prompts 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 08:55:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11574705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: Watson was delighted at the chance to go to the theatre. Written for JWP #21.





	On Display

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Post-Reichenbach feels.. And absolutely no beta. This was written in a huge rush. You have been warned.
> 
> Author's Notes: Written for JWP #21: A trip to the theatre. Whether it's an actual stage, a performance, an operating theatre, or some other interpretation, make sure a theatre features in today's entry. The last time we had this prompt, [I brought down the curtain](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2053911).

In 1894, shortly after I had sold my practice and moved back to Baker Street, Holmes was presented with two box tickets to The Tempest by a grateful client. The production had received high praise from the critics and the public alike. I told Holmes I would be glad of the chance to go, assuming no other work intervened. Through luck or contrivance, none did, and so on the appointed evening, Holmes and I donned suitable evening attire and made our way to the theatre.

We arrived in good time. We took the opportunity to wander the lobby, talking quietly and taking in the scene. Holmes, as was often his habit, put my composure to the test by making sly observations and astounding deductions about the people around us. I was somewhat out of practice, and found my lips twitching in amusement quite frequently. Gradually, however, I noticed that my friend and I were attracting a number of covert looks and even some occasional stares. At first I thought it might be my attire; it was still less than a year since I had lost my Mary.

“It isn’t you, my dear fellow,” Holmes said softly, reading my mind as he so often seemed to do, even after our long separation. “I am sorry. I should have anticipated this.”

I would have asked him to explain, but matters were taken out of our hands. A tall, stylishly-dressed man approached Holmes and warmly shook his hand. “I had heard the news, but I scarcely dared believe it. I have never been so delighted to be proven wrong. Words cannot convey how glad I am to see you, to know you are indeed alive and back in London.”

“I am gratified to be here, and to be honoured with such a warm reception,” Holmes replied with a subtle warmth that told me that this man was someone Holmes was glad to see again.

Him, perhaps, but not the dozen or so others who pressed forward, now that someone else had dared. Holmes was perfectly, coolly polite, even in the face of effusive reactions and overly familiar overtures. My proximity meant I was also in this sudden spotlight, but as at best a secondary player, with little to say, and even more time to notice the further reactions rippling through the theatre crowds.

“You must be very glad indeed to have been so wrong, Doctor Watson,” one of Holmes’ admirers said to me at one point. It was not said with any noticeable malice, but I felt the sting all the same.

Glad? Of course. Overjoyed, even. Yet no one likes to be wrong, and still less likes to be deceived. I had been both wrong and deceived in about as public a manner as is possible to be, and yet I must be happy to have been so. It was a contradiction that so far I had not learned how to live with in any comfort.

The warning bell released us from the immediate crowd, and the private box was a relative haven. I saw Holmes settle himself, and did my best to emulate his example. But my soul was still in a tempest when the lights dimmed and the curtain rose.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted July 21, 2017.


End file.
